


Favorite Park

by itsacoup



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Animal Transformation, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, Mounties (RCMP), Single Parents, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-03 17:53:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13346412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsacoup/pseuds/itsacoup
Summary: “What do you want to be when you grow up, Sid?”"A mountie!”Laughter. “Are you sure?” A tiny head crowned in dark hair bobbles determinedly. “But you’re a witch, don’t you want to be a politician or a movie star?”“No! Wanna be a mountie!”A mountie witch and a bear with a lost wallet: a love story redux.





	Favorite Park

**Author's Note:**

> A soft AU of a soft AU; what We'll Be(e) Okay could have been in a different world. No familiarity with beekeeper!AU required.

_ “What do you want to be when you grow up, Sid?” _

_ “A mountie!” _

_ Laughter. “Are you sure?” A tiny head crowned in dark hair bobbles determinedly. “But you’re a witch, don’t you want to be a politician or a movie star?” _

_ “No! Wanna be a mountie!” _

\------

**CBC Calgary**

**Happy Birthday, Canada! Red Serge Style**   
_ Mounties don classic uniforms, pose on terrifying bridge to celebrate 150th _

\------

Mounties do a lot more than Sidney ever realized before he joined, and frankly, most of it is unglamarous. Apple-cheeked 18 year old Sidney would look in disdain upon the now 28 year old Sidney on assignment to the quiet forest of Waterton Lakes National Park. Southern Alberta is…  _ quiet…  _ and the park doubly so. It’s far from glamorous-- far from everything, really-- but it’s Sidney’s posting, so here he is, standing in the spot where the prairie unrolls to meet the mountains. Dreams of being the dashing Mountie, surrounded by friends (and perhaps even a few admirers) are faded and cracked like aged photographs. Now, he poses with Americans and tells tourists in pursuit of the perfect photo op not to approach the wildlife. His days of single fatherhood don’t seem to be ending any time soon, and the silence around him leaves his witching burning impatiently at the tips of Sidney’s fingers and ears and toes. 

That’s duty for you. It’s why he became a Mountie-- teenage dreams of wearing his uniform and sweeping swooning men off their feet aside-- and it’s why he adopted Mitchie when he was just a tiny, quiet witch-baby that was abandoned next to the RCMP academy. Duty calls, and Sidney answers; witching may stand between him and duty sometimes, but Sidney is too bull-headed to let it totally stop him. So Sidney took Mitchie in, stubbornly persisted until the RCMP allowed him to adopt, because he saw the looks of fear and revulsion on his classmates’ and trainers’ faces as Mitchie’s witching reached out. Because he remembered the same looks aimed towards him in grade school, and he remembered running home to his parents, crying, afterward. Because he remembered how they could never understand how those looks twanged against his heart-center in shades of nauseous green and burning orange. So-- duty still calls, and now he’s here, a little out of place and a little unsettled, but it’s where he’s needed, so here he’ll stay.

It’s only the start of his shift, so it’s too early for the the maudlin thoughts he pushes aside as a couple-- clearly tourists, going by the taller woman’s fanny pack, and newlyweds, going by the way they fiddle with their wedding rings and reach out to touch each other-- shyly approaches him. The taller woman is blushing a little, shifting nervously from foot to foot, as her shorter wife blurts out, “Can we get a photo with you?” Sidney isn’t surprised; it’s practically obligatory since he’s in full red serge today for the 150th anniversary. According to the RCMP, he’s got nothing better to do than to dress up and look dashing, though he feels less dashing and more runny, thanks to the end of a summer cold. Still, he poses officiously between them after they wrangle a third visitor into taking their picture, who snaps a number of shots while cooing the whole time. It’s second nature now for Sidney not to notice the way the couple draws away after the picture, huddling together out of arm’s reach as if that will keep the touch of his witching away from their hearts. Then, surprisingly, the taller woman steps forward and holds out a wallet she extracts from her fanny pack. “I found this on the trail,” she says. “Don’t know where else to turn it in, but you’re the police, right?”

Sidney is sniffling again as he yanks out the ID in the wallet.  _ Evgeni Malkin _ , it says, an Alberta license featuring a washed-out picture of a dark-eyed man with a crooked smile, even close-mouthed. The address is surprisingly local; he’s not a tourist but nearly a townie, just a few miles away in the hamlet of Mountain View. It’s strange to see an unfamiliar face, so Sidney wonders if Evgeni is new to the area, but the issuance of his license is more than a year ago. His eye wanders and the DOB is just a year and change off of Sidney’s.

Sidney thins his lips and slides the ID back into the pocket; it’s not appropriate or necessary to be looking at such things. Or thinking such things. He flips through the wallet briefly for any other identifying information-- or a more realistic picture than a license photo-- and finds a picture of a gangly man cuddling a little girl, dressed in a tutu and a camo jacket three sizes too big for her and with her arms wrapped as far as they will go around the man’s chest. Their broad smiles, both clearly caught amidst peals of laughter, make Sidney think of his own wallet and the picture within, he and Mitchie stomping through a pile of leaves and laughing uproariously. Something twists inside him, joy and loneliness and ennui bubbling up and coating his throat with acid until he closes the wallet with a snap. Lingering over the picture is still just as inappropriate as lingering over the license was a minute ago, and Sidney has a job to do.

“Thank you,” he tells the anxious tourists. “I’ll be sure to get this back to the proper owner.” If nothing else, he can drop the wallet in the mailbox of the address listed, and it has nothing to do with Sidney wanting to accidentally run into Evgeni. It doesn’t help that his license is Godling-marked; the blessed are thin on the ground this far from civilization, and they don’t flinch away from the kiss of witching as often as Standards may. It’s hard for Sidney to unbend around the townies, too worried about the propriety between them because of his role on top of the distance born of witchfear, but-- Mountain View is outside of his jurisdiction, and Mitchie really could use a playmate outside of the babysitter, especially one raised by a Godling.  _ Nope _ , Sidney tells himself firmly.  _ You’re ahead of yourself _ .

Sidney drags himself from his thoughts just in time to acknowledge the tourists saying a quick, “Thank you, have a nice day!” before they hurry off with one last, pale glance over their shoulders at him. That’s that, and Sidney sets out to look for a gangly man with dark eyes. It’s one of those days where he doesn’t get far before being interrupted, this time by a paramedic. “Sir, sir!” she calls, waving frantically at him. “Officer!” The improperly applied title still grates against Sidney’s ears-- he’s non-commissioned, but that’s a nuance that only Mounties care about, Sidney has learned-- but he answers the summons regardless.

“Yes?” he calls, hurrying off the path towards her.

“There’s a bear!” she shouts, entirely too loudly, and Sidney inwardly groans as he hears a dozen tourists suddenly turn towards them with a gleam of interest undoubtedly in their eyes. Not a whit of self-preservation among them; he’s going to spend far more time preventing selfies than actually handling the bear. “A baby bear, and it’s heading towards the playground!”

A  _ baby  _ bear. Even better. Sidney knows a baby bear is never actually alone, an angry mama somewhere within squealing distance, but tourists never seem to catch that nuance. He gives himself a few seconds to swear internally before calling, “Alright, I’m heading that way.” He tucks the wallet into his pants-pocket as he hurries towards the playground. He’s just a curve in the trail away, thankfully, and he rounds the bend as quickly as he can without running. A running Mountie would incite nothing but more panic, and a slower approach gives him time to evaluate the situation and settle his own racing heart. 

There is the bear cub on the far end of the playground, no more than ten meters from the edge of the mulch. There is a wave of excited tourists with cameras, and further away there is a huddle of locals who understand the nature of bears. And– oh god, there’s Mitchie clutching at the babysitter’s leg in front of the throng; it’s a beautiful day, so of course Anna took the chance to get them out of the house. He can hear Mitchie’s delighted, “Daddy!” and his heart-node throbs with confusion and longing as Anna sweeps Mitchie up, holding him back from running to Sidney. Mitchie’s face crumples inward, Sidney’s witching filling with his distress, and Sidney has to force himself to turn away and towards the cub that’s trying to make inroads on the playground. It bumbles along, clumsier than most bear cubs; Sidney wonders if it’s injured. He walks towards it, fighting the trembles of an adrenaline rush, not really sure what he can do to scare it off. When he’s just a few meters away, it notices him and squeals, skittering off towards the path Sidney took to get here. It is, of course, filled with tourists, cameras glued to their faces as they take pictures of a Mountie and a baby bear– Sidney can already hear the headlines, and he groans internally. He veers towards the road, hurrying a bit to try to cut off the cub.

It’s at that moment that a full grown bear comes charging out of the woods, and now that adrenaline comes in handy as Sidney breaks into a run to get in front of the tourists, pulling out his sidearm. The mama bear is making a racket, growls and chitters and little roars, but she’s focused entirely on the cub, rushing up with not a glance spared for Sidney and the rest. There isn’t another cub in sight, which finally twigs Sidney’s DayQuil-laden brain as odd, and the mama bear continues her little lecture, hovering over the cub, who is crouched down with ears flattened in contrition. Sidney pushes with his magic and finds not the incoherent mumble of animals but– nothing, a well, a sinkhole.

The universe flinches with a ringing bell tone rattling Sidney brains, and he hears “–so many times I’m tell you! I’m worry to death for you again!” A  _ Godling _ cub and its daddy bear, Sidney thinks in a daze as he goes limp with relief. Gods above, he’s too old for this kind of heart attack. After a handful of shaky breaths to regain his composure, Sidney takes a closer look at the human face of the werebear, still mid-scolding. He looks vaguely familiar, and Sidney pulls out the lost wallet. The droopy eyes and fluffy hair match; it looks like Sidney has solved two mysteries at once.

“Good morning,” Sidney calls as loudly as he can, a nasal edge grating through the air as he puts his sidearm back in its holster. Evgeni twitches and turns, only just noticing the fascinated tourists as he stands and hoists the bear cub onto his hip like any parent would with a toddler. He’s surprisingly tall, Sidney realizes, wearing Chucks and skinny pants-- extra skinny, and that’s not even  _ fair _ , wails the part of Sidney that has to have the ass and thighs let out in every pair of pants he owns-- and a frumpy sweater that looks like it should actually belong on a professor or grandfather. It’s distressingly interesting, as far as looks go, and adding that to the way Evgeni’s presence brushes against Sidney’s heart-node like warmed fur, full of amusement and compassion...

“Oh my god,” Evgeni says as Sidney continues to stare dumbly. “I’m so sorry, Natasha run away again to play at playground and I’m couldn’t find her. Not mean to scare anyone, I’m sorry!” He doesn’t even pause in his explanation as space twists again and suddenly a tiny girl in a tutu and a camo jacket three sizes too large for her takes the place of the bear in his arms.

“DADDY!” shrieks a voice behind Sidney, and now it’s his turn to sweep up an errant child to sit on his hip. Mitchie buries his face in the shoulder of Sidney serge in a sudden fit of shyness, now that Anna has let him go to his dad.

“It’s alright, sir,” Sidney says, trying to maintain his professionalism. “I’m just here to see that the situation is resolved safely, which it has been. I would ask that you take more care in the future to keep your daughter away from tourists while shifted, but--” he bounces Mitchie with a wry smile, “I know how impossible it can be to wrangle kids. Also, it seems that you dropped your wallet while searching for your daughter, and it was turned in to me.” It’s the work of a moment to shift Mitchie around enough that he can pull the wallet out of his pocket again and offer it up.

Evgeni hurries forward to take it from Sidney, and it’s then that Mitchie regains his confidence, picking up his head to offer a chirpy “Hi!” to Evgeni’s daughter. The collected tourists coo, and Sidney can feel his ears grow as red as his jacket.

“Say hi, Natasha,” Evgeni says, and this close his voice is pleasantly rumbling, almost intimate. The look he aims at Natasha is soft and loving. Sidney thinks– it’s hard for a single parent to find a partner because few people are ready to be introduced to parenting so abruptly. But another single parent–

“Privet!” Natasha says, laughing as Evgeni bounces her and says, “In English, Natasha.” “Hi, ” she concedes with a charming grin.

Sidney can sense the human interest story brewing behind him, so he says lowly and quietly, “My day off is Thursday, if Natasha needs a playmate.”

Evgeni glances up, surprised but clever and evaluating. “And you?” he asks shrewdly.

“I’m a Mountie  _ and _ a witch. I don’t get out often, you know? Professional boundaries on all sides. But you’re outside of my jurisdiction, and I bet you know what it feels like to be the Godling in a Standard town. So-- it’s a win-win situation, I’m thinking.” Barely, he bites back,  _ and you make that godawful sweater look good enough that I almost don’t want to tear it off you to find the skin underneath _ . Just barely.

Evgeni smiles, sharp and crooked, and it pierces down to Sidney’s core. “Good thinking,” he says. “It’s a date,” and a camera snaps.

\------

**CBC CALGARY**

**‘It was very Canadian’** **  
** _ Mountie in red serge chases bear, returns wallet, gets date in one fell swoop _

\------

_ “Um, I’m really not good at these speech things, but Geno told me ‘it’s your own wedding, have to talk!’ so um, here I am, I guess.” Laugher, and the smacking sound of a playful kiss amplified by the microphone. “Growing up, I always knew that I was going to be a Mountie. I was more sure of it than I thought I could be of anything. But then I found Mitchie while I was in the academy, and that was the surest thing I knew, even when he caused that international incident with Poland--” _

_ Bellow of laughter. Muffled shouting, barely caught by the mic: “See! Not just Nat that causes incidents! Mitchie’s  _ much _ worse than bear cub in park!” _

_ “Shush, Geno. Anyway, after Mitchie came to me, I thought that was it for sure things. But then there was this little bear cub running through the park, and behind her a big bear. The second Geno shifted, I felt him in my witching, warm and compassionate and--” Hoots and coos drown out the next words, and die down to catch the end. “I’ve used a lot of words to define myself over the years. Witch. Mountie. Father. But for the first time today, I get to say-- husband. I love you, Geno, and I am sure today-- and every day-- about taking you as my husband.” _

\------

**CBC CALGARY**

**Canada’s 153st and Their 3rd**   
_ Mountie and husband, united by wallet 3 years ago, celebrate wedding on anniversary of meeting _

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hello on [tumblr](http://itsacoup.tumblr.com)!


End file.
